


Of Candied Love and Smitten Souls

by earthbereconciled



Category: tronnor - Fandom
Genre: I might take prompts for this later on, M/M, Tronnor, literally just a place for me to post random Tronnor stuff idk, oneshots, the title is random I just thought it sounded profound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3791620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthbereconciled/pseuds/earthbereconciled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which I plug Connor and Troye into AU's of the one-shot variety. (Basically a way for me to express all of my Tronnor emotions without the boundaries of a continuous fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Candied Love and Smitten Souls

_Troye Sivan. Aspiring musician. I like cute boys with pretty eyes  |_

 

The cursor blinked as Troye stared as his computer screen, fingertips hovering over his keyboard. In hindsight, making an online dating profile seemed like a swell idea. How else could he conveniently break the awkward LA newbie phase without leaving his flat? He’d mail ordered decorations and furniture in advance, and now it was strewn about the main living room. Boxes upon boxes were piled high -- he had yet to find the motivation to unpack. Hence the purpose of creating an online profile. It would allow for anyone within a five mile radius to contact him. Hopefully, with some inevitably creepy responses, he could convince himself to abandon his hopeless crush in favor of something more promising, and slightly less pathetic.

 

With a sigh, Troye deleted what little of a bio he’d created, and made what easily could be his fiftieth attempt. How could one go about creating a bomb profile page, while still maintaining a majority of their dignity?

 

_Howdy-ho, it’s Tro._

 

Fuck no.

 

_Hi, I’m Troye! :) I like sunsets and beaches, and cute boys._

 

Scratch that nightmare.

 

_Troye Sivan is currently unable to draft up a proper biography, because he is tired indeed. Inqueries? Send away -- he certainly has the free time to answer them._

 

Too much like the narrator from ‘Pushing Daisies’. (Which, in all reality, would be pretty darn cool… if it didn’t make him sound like a pretentious asshole in the process.)

 

_Troye Sivan. 19. I sing and stuff._

 

“Lame as fuck,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Troye Sivan…” he recited as he typed, fingers hitting the keys at rapid speed. “2% alive. 98% sleep -- HA. Nope.” A head of dark curls meets the surface of the keyboard, accentuated with a soft sigh.

 

It was now that the boy on the opposite couch chose to chuckle from where he lay on his stomach, chin propped atop one of the decorative pillows. His green eyes crinkled at the edges, his bottom lip darting just behind his top teeth for a moment. God, Troye didn’t know how he’d gained the right to be allowed in the same room as someone so adorable and cute, and hot and -- _bro-like_.

 

Connor just grinned at Troye, hair subjected to gravity as it gently fell against his forehead. The chestnut haired boy had been whining for weeks about the haircut that was long overdue, but Troye savored these moments. It was when Connor was at his most organic, unscathed by products and high fashion, that he emulated the very essence of beauty.

 

There was a reason Troye hadn’t shared his new album with the other, after all -- there was nothing remotely platonic about love songs.

 

“Why are you doing this to yourself again?” A voice beckons Troye’s mind from its detour, back to the lulled annoyance of the moment. Connor’s voice contains the utmost amount of care and affection. Almost as if he actually did care as much as Troye liked to dream.

 

“Because,” Troye rolls his eyes, glancing back towards the screen. “You told me I was antisocial, so I’m branching out. Breaking the L.A. newb phase! On… meethotsingles.com.”

 

“That sounds like a matchmaking service for Wendy’s,” Connor giggled, and Troye couldn’t help but laugh along. He rolled his eyes fondly, lips pulling into a soft smirk.

 

“Sure, Con. What do you suggest I do, then? You’re obviously so experienced with the L.A. gay scene.” Troye waggled his eyebrows, to which Connor simply blushed and tipped his chin towards the pillow, as if he could somehow hide the onslaught of adorable that had seized his features. (Troye totally _wasn’t_ crushing on his best friend. Duh.)

 

“I dunno! Not join dating sites? It’s like… creepy.” Connor wriggled his nose, thinking for a second before setting the pillow aside and sitting up. “Here. Gimme?” He made grabby hands towards Troye, and the Australian took a beat to realize Connor was referring to the laptop, not him. Troye stood from his place on the floor, climbing onto the couch beside Connor. He tried (and failed) to ignore the way their legs touched as he settled himself against the American’s side and slid the laptop into his waiting hands. As Connor typed, Troye simply watched his expression as it danced between thoughtfulness and amusement.

 

“Mhm,” Connor hummed as his eyes briefly scanned the bio he’d just written for Troye. He was clearly proud of his work, leaning in closer against the taller boy to show him the screen. Troye fought to subdue his racing heart as he read through Connor’s words.

 

_Troye Sivan. 19. A lovable loser with an affinity for sunsets and boys named Connor. I’ll sing you a song if you ask nicely -- maybe we’ll exist in perfect harmony. ;)_

 

Connor bit back a grin as Troye read the sentences, green eyes twinkling with jollity.

 

“What the hell is this? A winky face? Con! What do you take me for; a flirt?!” Troye feigned exasperation. “This is rubbish, I can’t date hot guys with that as their first impression of me.”

“Maybe that’s the goal, though,” Connor teased with a half-smirk, nudging Troye’s shoulder with his own. “Maybe I don’t want to share you with some other guy. Congrats -- you’re stuck with me!” He was teasing, of course, and Troye would have to remind himself of that when he’d lie awake later, pondering just what exactly he and Connor were.

 

“Ha, you jealous fuck,” Troye scoffed, bumping Connor’s shoulder back. “I hate you sometimes, y’know that? Always ruining my fun.” Connor hesitated, biting his lip. He took a moment to formulate a response that would mask the truth of Troye's previous statement. Troye couldn't help but interpret his tentative approach as an indication that he'd overstepped. He'd make a note not to joke about romantic intentions; obviously the thought of Troye liking him freaked Connor out. Or, at least, so Troye thought.

 

“Psh. You mean protecting you from STDs?” The reply was delayed, but held just a hint of sass. Despite being thrown off guard, Connor obviously wanted to keep this exchange light and free of emotional obligation. Troye could roll with that.

  
“Again, to which I say: ruining my fun.”


End file.
